I don’t know. I mean…what’s there to say really? I’m here typing away while a couple of hot dogs boil on the stove. The clementines are peeled and the popsicles are chilling. I’ve been feeling decidedly blah-ggy (get it?) lately. Mostly because the sun is out and, if you’ve been reading No. 7 for any period of time, you know that I LIVE for these sunny summer days. Sitting inside and forcing myself to write to entertain y’all just ain’t working for me today. Sorry. Still love you lots though!
I’m simply absorbing, experiencing and loving the simplicity of this day. Watermelons and a spastic puppy dog to entertain the girls. That tick that tried to crawl up my leg. The wasp that dive-bombed my head. Shit, even the cooler that I forgot to take out of the minivan after last week’s beach day. Sure it stunk and the mold was nasty, but you know what? It means that summer is here. Summer. The season that I love.
So Dear Reader, I hate to run but my spastic puppy dog has developed a penchant for launching herself up the side of and into the sparkling water of our Wal-Mart Glamour Pool. Unfortunately for Stella, the pool has no real means of escape for creatures lacking opposable thumbs. Each time she performs her little Jack Russell-turned-Esther Williams dive, my ears fill the blood-curdling scream of my middle girl. Evidently, the doggie paddle and/or the thought of drowning bothers her. On the up-side, it appears that all of my pool safety talks resonated.
Actually, it’s not that funny because poor Gwennie’s little face truly fills with unbridled terror as she attempts to drag Stella to safety. The only real humor in the situation is when I paused to recall that day last winter when I nearly passed out thanks to a stomach bug and dehydration. Did my little Gwennie exhibit the same terror in the face of her dear mother’s imminent death? Nah. She stepped over me and asked her Daddy if she could have a cookie. Seriously. She didn’t even mention the fact that mommy was sprawled out on the family room floor. The experience of my daughter simply maneuvering around my lifeless form (okay, maybe I’m being slightly dramatic) on her way to retrieve processed junk food was slightly upsetting; especially in the throes of winter whilst fighting tendencies toward depression.